Talent is a Hard Thing to Come By
by MiniCinnamon99
Summary: Clint has had his SHIELD driving privileges revoked for the time being, so using the subway to get to work was inevitable. However, when he meets a mysterious friend, he finds the experience almost bearable. Until he finds out why she's really there. (Make sure to read the author's note! And I don't own the picture) Please R&R!


Well, this sort of just came to me yesterday and I spent the whole day writing it out and editing it. I really like it, so I hope you will too.

Now, it won't make a lot of sense unless I either continue it, or make this a preview and do a whole story later. However, that probably won't happen unless there's some real interest in this. So please R&R!

Now I'm quite content to present:

Talent is a Hard Thing to Come By (The title also doesn't make sense unless I continue.) ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own the lyrics, Agent Clinton Barton, Agent Natasha Romanoff, or SHIELD but I do own Rebecca Hannighan and all of her family along with the plot. All spelling and grammar issues are mine and mine alone, but I think I did a pretty good job of finding them all this time.

* * *

><p>"<em>Riding a wave, chasing the sun, only gets better when you're with someone<em>…"

He could hear someone singing behind him. They were at least a decent singer, but it startled him to hear someone on the subway train, happy enough to sing. And not a lot startled him. It also showed you what kind of life he led when he was surprised by someone being _happy_ and not berserker slave traders or aliens from outer space.

"_Someone that you love who takes your breath away, _

_We're wild and we're young, we're living for today…_"

He turned his head just enough to be able to see her out of the corner of his eye. She was pretty and she was making subtle movements like she was…memorizing them?

Suddenly a kid on his other side started wailing. He redirected his attention, because he needed some entertainment.

"Mooooom! I _want_ the iPod, and you're gonna get it for me!"

"But sweetie," The mom tried negotiating, "I don't have…"

"I WANT THE **iPOD**!"

"But, honey…"

"MOM!"

"Hey!" the girl he had started watching before had turned to watch the kid, and was now making her way over.

Both the kid and the mother looked at her, stunned, as well as a few other people sitting nearby.

"What?" the little kid asked hotly.

"Listen up you little snot rag!"

"Hey!"

"Yeah, that's what I said; a snot rag. Your mom here, is trying to tell you she doesn't have enough money to buy you a frickin' iPod, because she's too busy putting clothes on your back and food in your face. And if you ever act like this in public again I'll be there and I know the boogeyman. I can sick him on you, so just remember that the next time you think it's okay to embarrass your parents. You got that?"

The little kid nodded dumbly, just as the subway was screeching to a halt. She gave him a stern look and then went back to singing to herself as she went through the barely open doors, not waiting for them to fully open, or to hear the crowd's applause. Or for the mother to thank her.

Clint was amused to say the least as he watched her strut down the platform toward the stairs, through the glass of the train car's windows.

So, that's what they meant by 'it takes a village to raise a kid'.

* * *

><p>He saw her again the next day as soon as he stepped on the train, which he was only using because he was temporarily banned from using a SHIELD vehicle. She was in the exact same spot as yesterday.<p>

He smirked to himself and stood in the same place as he had yesterday as well, before someone else could. And it was _not_ because she had caught his attention and he was trying to watch her to see what she was going to do today.

The subway started moving again, and he relaxed his stance, making sure his gaze was focused anywhere but on her. Then he heard a squeak, not loud enough to be heard by anyone but he had better senses than average and he was fairly close to her so he had indeed heard it.

He glanced over to see a man with a gun, digging the weapon into her back and taking her purse off of her shoulder.

Clint tensed subtly, reaching for his own weapon, when the mystery girl met his gaze. She saw his hand twitch, and she gave the tiniest smile before giving him a wink and using her chin to gesture to the floor.

His gaze traveled down until it came to rest on the hand she had in her purse. And as the mugger took the purse off of her shoulder, her hand slipped out like it had never been inside, except she was clutching her own gun.

Clint gazed at her in disbelief, and met her gaze again. Her smile got bigger, and she shrugged before her elbow whipped out, hitting her attacker's gun hand. The gun went flying and Clint lunged for it before it hit someone in the head. As he caught it, he glanced back at her to see she had her own gun in the man's face, and he was very afraid. Of course so were the several bystanders who were now watching.

Thinking quickly he pulled out his police identification he always carried with him in the city for situations like this.

"Relax, ladies and gentleman, my partner and I have just arrested this man on several charges. It's fine, go back to your business."

Everyone in the car relaxed, knowing that the threat was now unarmed and contained. And the police were here. What could possibly go wrong?

Clint sighed, _Naïve civilians_.

The mystery girl however, still hadn't taken her gaze off of him, and her smile was definitely frozen and suspicious.

_Smart girl_.

Realistically, any man not in uniform, looking like him, pulling out a random badge, and claiming to be partners with a woman that had no notification whatsoever, and was brandishing a gun? Yeah, Clint didn't get the minds of normal people either. You could at least be a bit weary right?

As Clint moved closer to take the man into custody, the girl took a cautious step out of his way, letting him get at the man but not relinquishing the grip on her own gun or her purse.

"Nice moves," Clint said rather lamely as he twisted the man so his face ended up as part of the pole right behind him.

The girl's lips twitched as she nodded her acceptance of the compliment but otherwise she didn't move, her weary and suspicious gaze never once wavering.

"So," Clint spoke to the man this time instead, "I see you're terrible at mugging people. You could at least be less cliché about it, with the gun and all."

"Fuck you!"

Clint scoffed, but mystery girl moved forward again in two quick strides, and pressed herself intimidatingly up against the guy's back hissing in his face.

"That wasn't very nice," she snarked, before she knocked his feet apart with one of hers and slammed her gun into the back of his neck, stunning him.

Clint had to swallow a chuckle as the poor bastard fell to his knees, his face dragging down the metal pole, because Clint still had a death grip on his neck, no doubt causing friction burn in its wake.

The mugger cursed and Clint, wisely, put his arm around the guy's head, his hand over the mouth, and hauled him up by his skull.

"So," he said conversationally as if holding a prisoner captive with only the strength of his left arm over the twerp's mouth and face was an everyday thing, "What are you doing Saturday?"

"Uh, nothing much," she replied back like it was an ordinary day all around. Clint thought this was even more bizarre than alien invasions but hey, he liked it.

"So, if you _were_ to do anything Saturday, would I have the privilege of joining you?" _Wait what_? Uh, he only meant to make small talk, not _ask her on a __**date**_.

_What the hell Barton?_

"Oooh...you're smooth," she smiled softly at him as she teased him.

"I like to think so," Clint said arrogantly just to mix it up a bit.

She laughed at him and he chuckled, while simultaneously tightening the grip he had on the prisoner, since he had wiggled, thinking Clint distracted.

"Alright," she nodded, "If you can take me out dancing on Saturday and still want to see me, I'd have no objections to giving you my phone number."

Clint almost balked, "So we're doing this the old-fashioned way?"

"We're totally going classic," she nodded seriously, "I'll meet you at the Starbuck's on the corner of my regular stop. I'm sure you'll be able to find it just as easily as you found that fake police badge."

Clint smiled.

"Oh, so you caught that, huh?"

She nodded smugly, and Clint chuckled.

"Well I'll let you in on a little secret," he leaned closer to whisper in her ear.

"It's not fake. But I'm not a policeman."

And because he was a badass, Super-Agent, he had timed it just right so that as her jaw dropped, he shoved her out of the opening door, out of train car, her only just managing to keep herself from falling into the gap and/or onto her face.

He watched with a smirk as she stood stunned, until long after the train had passed her and he assumed she stood like that for a long while after that too.

Okay, so he was a bastard, but hey, they hadn't even exchanged names or numbers. It's not like anything could come of that. Besides he was a SHIELD Agent. What good would a relationship be for him? Especially one with a normal girl? Even one as awesome as mystery girl wasn't trained to handle his life, and that's what it took to survive a relationship with him. And sometimes that didn't even work if his and Natasha's failed relationship was anything to judge by.

Yeah, he was totally not going Saturday. Besides by then he'd have his SHIELD driving privileges back and he'd never have to use this subway train again, so it's not like it'd be awkward seeing her every day. He'd never see her again after Friday.

Of course today was Tuesday. Well shit.

And surprisingly, instead of dreading tomorrow on the train, he was kind of looking forward to it. What would she do tomorrow?

* * *

><p>He wasn't disappointed. Getting on the train that morning, he glanced at her to find her occupied with four kids.<p>

Now he didn't want to jump to conclusions and say they were hers, but the girls both looked a lot like her, and the boys definitely had some of her redeeming features. The oldest girl, who looked about thirteen, was identical to her.

The other three were a boy around ten, another boy around six, and another little girl about three.

He was…even gladder he wasn't going to meet up with her on Saturday. And he was now resolved to not look at her at all until she got off at her stop.

That was until he heard her call out and felt a small tug on his hand.

He glanced down and frowned. How had the little girl gotten over here without him knowing? That was…not as impossible as he'd originally thought apparently.

"Hi!" she chirped as mystery girl rushed over, the other three kids in tow.

"Hi," he said easily. He really liked kids, he just didn't like being responsible for them.

"You know what? My Aunt Becky said she likes you. She told grandma, that she met a _hunk_ on the train and that has to be you. Right? _I _certainly think so."

Alright, so maybe she was a bit older than three?

"Constance!" Clint looked up to see a particularly mortified _Becky_.

"But Auntie! You said if I ever met _**the hunk**_, I'd be able to talk with him. What's wrong now?"

Clint had to laugh at the young girl's haughty expression. It looked just like her Aunt's had yesterday when she took down the mugger.

"Country take your sister, and let her play on your phone."

"Fine," the one named Country (weird) sighed, "But you owe me."

"I know, a shopping spree worth…what's the tally now?"

Country's eyebrows went up and she smiled.

"Three-hundred, fifty-seven dollars, and eighty-nine cents."

Becky nodded in exasperation, "Fine. Now, please?"

"Come on Connie, I downloaded the cake baking game just like you wanted me to."

"Yeah!"

Clint laughed again, as Country took Constance to an open seat and plopped the girl on her lap only to shove her phone in the younger girl's hands and lean back closing her eyes.

He was about to speak, when his gaze was dragged from the girls, by someone clearing their throat.

He looked down to find two little boys almost glaring at him.

"Those are our sisters," the older one asserted, "And this is our Auntie Becky. She's our only legal guardian besides our Grandma. So, because she's family and really important to us, if you hurt her, you're dog food."

"Only because we don't feel like doing worse," the younger one called out, not to be out done. Clint remembered being the slightly younger one, fighting for the spotlight. He found he sort of missed it.

"Alright," Becky chimed in, "You threatened him like you promised; now get over there and annoy your sisters like I know you're dying to."

"Yeah!" "Yes!"

Both Becky and Clint chuckled as they watched them rush over and plop down on top of Country as well.

"My sister's kids," Becky finally said fondly, "Country is the oldest, Constance is the youngest and in between them is Charlie the older boy, and Cramer, the younger one."

"Their gorgeous kids," Clint said honestly, "What happened to your sister?"

"She lost her mind," Becky said matter of factly, "She was a paranoid schizophrenic alcoholic. Her husband walked out after she tried to kill him one too many times. The kids still visit sometimes, but it's less and less frequently as her treatment gets worse and worse."

"What?" Clint asks slightly horrified as his imagination ran away with him.

"Actually, it's her own fault," Becky reassured him, "She refuses to take her medication. Her meds could get her out of the facility, and back to her family and the real world, but her being content to experience the highs and lows of her illness is her downfall, and sometimes it gets so bad they have to sedate her forcefully. So, the longer she stays like that at one time, the longer the kids go in a stretch without seeing her. I tried to take them to her once when she was like that, hoping they would help, and she slipped her pills to Constance."

Clint looked at her in disbelief, and Becky just chuckled.

"Never again."

She shook her head good-naturedly, and walked back toward the kids, getting them all to stand up, just in time for the train to stop and for them to slip out before anyone else.

She didn't look back or say another word. And Clint figured it was payback for the day before.

* * *

><p>Thursday morning was eventful as well. Clint was starting to think any place that had this woman standing in the middle of it was eventful.<p>

Because now, standing around her were four other animatedly talking females, each holding a book of a different size, colour, and thickness.

Subtly eavesdropping, and shamelessly ogling the gaggle of women, he soon found out they were planning someone's wedding.

The brunette of the group it seemed, because now she was talking very personally about her honeymoon plans. Or she was fantasizing about her own dream honeymoon for someone else. He wasn't sure because he wasn't trained in speed eavesdropping, and these women were talking three miles a minute. And realistically either one could be true because he had definitely seen women do weirder.

Suddenly his mystery girl (Becky he reminded himself) looked over and met his gaze for only a moment. The wink he received made him feel…unusual. Like his insides were tingling.

She seemed to notice his reaction and smiled before looking back at her companions, jumping right back into the fray of the conversation.

And that was all the interaction they had, except on the way by him, all four of her friends pinched his ass.

He didn't react outwardly but he definitely found it amusing as he could hear them scolding her, about _'thinking they were blind'_, and not telling them about _'her new beau'_.

Becky's face was a mixture of amused and horrified as she followed her friends in stunned silence, but she did not blush.

Come to think of it, not one of his compliments, or the embarrassing situations she'd been in had made her blush.

It was almost like she was…trained out of it?

* * *

><p>Friday morning was his last morning on the subway and it turned out to be the strangest.<p>

She wasn't there.

So at SHIELD that day he found her face on the subway video cameras, and ran it through the recognition system.

_Name: Rebecca Lauren Hannighan _(Lauren?)

_Age: 30 _(What!? No way. She's 25 tops.)

_Height: 5'9" _(In her heart yeah, maybe, but never in reality. 5'6" when she isn't in her ridiculous shoes. Who created this?)

_Weight: 140 lbs. _(Yeah right, maybe soaking wet, and then not even)

_Hair Colour: Red _(Um, unless my hair colour ((which almost matches hers)) is classified as** red** this is wrong on so many levels.)

_Eye Colour: Blue _(Pft, yeah unless she was wearing contacts the only way she could achieve this would be a bone marrow transplant!)

_Occupation: Classified_

_Records_

…was what popped up on the screen when he found her. The _classified_ occupation puzzled him. Usually that was only implemented for people SHIELD was watching or assets that didn't work directly under the Agency.

But he clicked on the records link, and everything came up:

Her entire family tree, all of her mother's records from forever, all of her deceased father's records from forever, all of her sister's records, both criminal and health included, her…she has a brother? Well, all of his records from forever, all of both of her siblings' spouses' records from forever, even her nieces' and nephews' school and health records came up. And lastly all of her personal records came up, along with her husband's name.

Ex-Husband apparently, as he read further. The files coming up on the screen didn't have much on him except…he was once a SHIELD target? That **_Clint_** had killed. Well, that…complicated things. It might also explain why her occupation was classified. If she was trying to redeem herself from her husband's transgressions, she maybe under SHIELD's protection along with her family.

It also explained why she could take care of herself. Crime bosses didn't usually have wives unless they could take out five men with a napkin and ten other with a paper clip. That may be exaggerating a tad, but not too much. He'd seen some crime bosses' wives, and they were all the same, but usually all crazier than the last.

Other than that, she was a normal citizen according to the records in front of him, which he knew now we're SHIELD fabricated, so there wasn't a lot of evidence as to why she would skip her routine. Of course if she was SHIELD now...

He checked the mission logs and found that _Consultant_ Rebecca Hannighan had arrived at this very base last Sunday at 6:54 am with two escorts, and had left again at 7:59am with a new mandate implemented.

_Surveillance of Agent Clinton Barton. Relapse of mind control suspected, evaluation recommended and refused. Agents Hannighan and Romanoff are our best option at the moment._

And today she had arrived at 5:00am to give her report and had left on a consulting mission to Tibet at 7:01am.

He had literally missed her by one minute. He'd stepped into the building at exactly 7:02am just like every morning.

He read the mandate again.

_Surveillance of Agent Clinton Barton. Relapse of mind control suspected, evaluation recommended and refused. Agents Hannighan and Romanoff are our best option at the moment._

Okay, Hannighan he could understand. He didn't know her, he didn't associate with her outside of the subway train, and although it stung slightly, since he'd sensed the beginning of a friendship, it didn't matter a whole helluva lot.

But…Natasha? She still thought he was unstable? He could always pull up her report on him, since the witches had turned them in at the same time, but he didn't think he could stomach it no matter what it said. The knowledge that she had investigated him could only mean she had her own doubts. Or worse what if she'd _requested_ the investigation? It would make sense, because usually she was asked to investigate targets and other Agents alone, but if she'd asked for permission to, they needed another Agent's objective opinion.

Now that was a blow to the stomach he almost doubled over trying to recover from. He had _never, never_ investigated or did surveillance on her. NEVER. Not even when she had first arrived and SHIELD wanted to document her every move, like she was an experiment. He saw it as a betrayal to her and her trust in him. But…for her to do it to him? Had she never trusted him at all? Had almost nine years meant so little to her that she could outright insult him and his own knowledge of himself and their relationship like this?

Very blatantly he realized there must've been an alarm on this file for his access code to notify several people if he accessed it, because Natasha was suddenly standing behind him.

He turned to look her square in the face, letting his betrayal and hurt permeate the atmosphere. And like always she stood as an emotionless statue, with an expression that said he was an idiot.

And that hurt even more.

He stormed by her without a word, shoving her out of the way with a force that made her stumble; a force he'd never used on anyone but his enemies before as she got in his way trying to stop him.

He didn't bother to look back to see if it had broken her façade at all. He knew it wouldn't have.


End file.
